The ruin, p.34
The Ruin, page 34
“Sacrifice?” I ask.
“Death,” she replies. “When our ancestors asked for the power to save a life, they did so to save someone they loved. The universe exists on a principle of balance, give and take. To fulfill the debt, we have to sacrifice the life of one we hold dear.”
“As in murder?” I blurt. “I wouldn’t kill anyone.” Even as I say the words, my thoughts drift to Matthew. I was willing to kill him, wasn’t I?
“Not murder, Kara. Acceptance. The sacrifice requires us to set our gift aside and let someone go.”
Understanding dawns. “Mom?”
“Yes,” Calla acknowledges with a sigh.
“But, why? What did we do?”
“You’ve done nothing to deserve it. The truth is simple: our debt is one none of us could hope to repay. We saved someone from sickness, so a sickness must be what takes them, but members of our clan do not fall ill. Even if they did, the debt must be repaid by someone innocent of our crimes, someone who has never performed the Sharing. We have none here who can fulfill both conditions.”
“No one? None at all?” Dad’s words are tinged with disbelief.
“None,” Calla responds.
“But, there are people here, right? People who aren’t from our clan?”
“There are, but the only other humans we interact with are those who have been Healed. They are tainted by our blood. I’ve come to understand this must be why Lilliana was called to leave the village. Eir had a hand in her departure.”
“Why would Eir want my mother to leave?” Dad asks.
“She left the clan and formed a new life. She created you, Richard, and you created Kara. You had children with a woman outside of the clan, a woman who had never been Healed. Your interactions changed her, and she survived. You gave us a way to repay our debt, and now, as painful as it is, we have a chance to remove this abomination from the world.”
My eyes are glued to Mom as she continues.
“You must let her die, but her death will mean so much more than human loss. It will mean the end of a centuries-long plague upon this Earth. It will mean salvation for all who might have been destroyed. It will right wrongs that have already happened and prevent countless more.”
I want to argue with her, but I can’t. There are no more treatments. She can’t be helped by the Sharing. I won’t destroy her and let her become a fiend. In a matter of hours, Mom will be gone.
“What do I need to do?” I manage between sobs.
“Give her to Eir,” Calla answers. “Let her live her last moments in love and comfort, then dedicate her funeral pyre. That’s all. No complicated magic, no deals, simply an honorable goodbye.”
I scoff as I wipe away the tears streaking my cheeks. “Just do the hardest thing anyone could ever do?”
Calla sighs again. “Yes. Let her go.”
Silence fills the cramped space as Dad and I exchange a glance of love, loss, grief, and finally understanding. He squeezes my hand again.
I close my eyes and shut out the world, hating myself for admitting defeat, even though I know she’s right. “Will Mom make it through the night?”
Calla considers her. “I believe so, but not much longer.”
“Okay.”
Dad squeezes my hand again. I blow out a breath, steeling myself. Emotion threatens to overtake me, but I can’t let it. I have to stay strong for Mom for as long as I can.
“In the morning, I need your help,” I tell Calla, slipping my protective mask back on.
“What can we do?” she asks. Her voice is empathetic and kind.
“I need her carried out to the clearing by the creek.”
“We can see to that,” she says. “But, may I ask why?”
I move to the bed and lift Mom’s hand into mine once more. “It’s peaceful there. One last time, we’re going to see the sunrise.”
Though it shouldn’t take this many people, Dad and three members of the Ruin carry Mom through the sturdy gate and into the clearing. I think it’s a sign of respect. The makeshift stretcher barely sags beneath her frail frame as they set out across the grass. It can’t be heavy. She’s even smaller than she was when we arrived yesterday. She’s withered away more than I thought possible overnight.
I move to follow them into the open, but Calla reaches for my arm. Her grip on my bicep is soft yet assertive. I raise my face to hers, and she lifts her other hand to tuck a stray strand of my ratted hair behind my ear. I haven’t bothered to change or bathe since we arrived. To her credit, Calla pretends not to notice.
“Your friend is waiting for you by the creek where the clearing meets the mountainside. He’ll be safe there. No Healed are permitted to leave the village, so there’s no chance for infection. Do not let him cross the stream. I cannot assure his safety then.”
“I won’t.”
Connor will be there. My Connor. Dad and I won’t have to sit with Mom alone as she fades into the darkness. He’ll keep me whole.
“We do not wish for any additional losses.”
“Neither do I.”
“I’m sure. Though I’m certain your mother’s sacrifice will not be in vain, I have no control over the magic which has already been worked before she leaves this world. That is up to Eir.” She lowers her arm and looks out into the clearing at the stretcher. “When the moment has passed, I’ve given Richard instructions to find me. Your friend must remain outside the village, even after her departure.”
“You’re not coming?” I ask.
“This is a time best spent with those who loved your mother most. While I respect her and her sacrifice, it is not my place to be by her side. I will remain with my people until the time is right.”
“I understand,” I tell her. And, I do. She’s offering us privacy to grieve. I’m thankful.
“When you’re ready, our clan will follow the four of you up the mountain.” Calla’s gaze drifts to the looming peak. “We will honor your mother’s life, but we cannot carry the burden. It must fall to the three of you.”
“Why?”
“It is an act of dedication, of devotion. You must carry the weight of loss to Eir’s altar and lay it before her.”
I follow her gaze to the tip of the towering slate. “It’s steep.”
“It is,” she agrees, “but we’ve spent many years wearing a footpath to the altar. The ascent should be less treacherous than your time in the forest.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll be right behind you, Kara Edwards. You do not make this journey alone.”
“Thank you, Calla. For everything,” I tell her.
“I only wish I could do more.”
I nod because there’s nothing left to say.
This time, she doesn’t stop me when I step through the gate. I don’t look back. There’s no point. Nothing waits for me with the Ruin anymore.
I cradle Mom’s head in my lap beneath the early morning sky. Only feet away, the rapidly moving stream burbles. Connor sits beside me, his arm wrapped around my hips. Dad tucks heavy blankets around Mom’s legs and feet, keeping her warm.
“Remember when I was little and I wanted to be a pirate?” I ask her, though she doesn’t stir. “You made me a swashbuckler costume for Halloween. That was maybe two years after Dad left? I can’t remember. I wanted to run away and go on great adventures. Things at home were hard, and I thought sailing the seas would be better. You laughed and told me I’d get scurvy without my vitamins, but you still stuffed one of your old purses with those gold chocolate coins.
“Jennifer made fun of me for pretending to sword fight with an empty paper towel roll, but you took me over to the swing set in the park and showed me how to step across each one like it was a booby-trapped path to the treasure. You told me you and I would go on adventures one day. I guess you were right. Look where we are, Mom. We’re in the middle of the Appalachian Mountains. It’s beautiful.”
Connor wraps his arm tighter around my hips while I break down. “I remember that,” he tells me. “When I came over, you drew a curly mustache under my nose with a Sharpie. My mom was pissed.”
A tiny laugh slips out of me. “It came off.”
“Yeah, four days later.” He plants a soft kiss on my cheek.
“I thought it made you look handsome.”
“When you were maybe three,” Dad cuts in, “you used to drag this fuzzy blanket your mom made you through the house. It would get filthy, but you absolutely refused to let us wash it. Do you remember that?”
“No,” I answer. “I was too little.”
“We had tacos for dinner one night, and you got grease all over the blanket. You used it to wipe your face like a napkin. I tried to pry it away from you, but you fought me tooth and nail. Your mom saved the day when she ran you a bath and washed you and the blanket. She was clever like that.”
“I don’t think I told you what she said to me when I graduated from high school,” Connor adds. “Ally and my parents were still up in the bleachers, but she came down and wrapped me in the tightest hug. She was so proud, even though I wasn’t one of her own. Valerie told me I’d be a hero. Not like a superhero, but someone who changed the world.”
“You’re my hero,” I say as I lean my head onto his shoulder. He smiles.
We tell stories about Mom as we watch the sky shift from a flat gray to shades of red, pink, orange, and yellow. Dad recounts how Mom got into a bar fight once before I was born because someone insulted him when they were playing pool. Connor talks about how Mom used to sneak him cookies and candies before he went home after his visits. I remember things I’d long since forgotten, like the time I hid a tiny painted turtle in the closet for two weeks before she found it, the time I got into her makeup and tried to put it on but ended up looking like a clown, and how she used to let me sleep in her t-shirts when I was small. Before I know it, the sun crests over the top of the forest. It fills the clearing with sparking yellow light. The refraction of the ripples in the creek sends rainbows onto the slate. It’s a sight to behold.
“Look, Mom,” I beg. “The sun is coming up. Just one last time, open your eyes. I won’t ask you to fight. This is all I want. Open your eyes and watch it with me. Please.”
A light breeze ripples the tops of the trees.
“Please…”
Mom doesn’t stir. She’s too far gone. Her body is ready to rest. Her breath slows as I stroke the soft patch of hair on her scalp.
I press my forehead to hers and lower my voice so only she and I can hear. “I love you, Mommy. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done. I wanted to keep you with me. I wasn’t ready, and that wasn’t fair. I’ll never be ready, but it’s time to let go. Stop fighting. Let go of the pain. I’m here. Dad’s here. Connor’s here. You’re not alone.”
Mom’s eyelids flutter as my tears fall. They open, ever so slightly, as I kiss her forehead and struggle to breathe.
“K…ar...a,” she mumbles, and the faintest smile appears on her face. Her eyes drift to the sky above before they close.
Her chest stops rising and falling. Her shoulders still. I press my fingers to her wrist, and her heartbeat slows.
“I love you,” I whisper again, barely able to speak.
The thrumming beneath my fingers ceases.
Pain drags me down into a bottomless abyss. I can’t feel Connor’s touch anymore. All I know is the limp body in my arms.
She’s gone.
Mom’s gone.
I don’t remember collapsing onto the dew-soaked ground, but I must have because the next thing I know, Connor is lifting me into his lap. He holds me in a tight embrace, rocking me as he did so many weeks ago on his blood-soaked bathroom floor. I cling to him as though he is the only person who can keep me tethered to this Earth.
Dad crawls across the grass and joins us, taking both of us into his arms. We’re broken, the three of us, shattered by the impact of Mom’s loss. We hold onto each other like we never have before.
Everything has changed.
It feels like we sit together for hours in agonizing grief. Time is deceiving in the wake of death. The sun barely skirts across the horizon, though every moment with Mom gone is an eternity. Eventually, I run out of tears and my throat is raw. I look to my father, and he reads my thoughts without having to utter a single word.
Go to Calla.
And, he does.
Calla keeps her promise. When Dad returns, the whole host of the Ruin trails in his wake. Calla leads them. A black, hooded robe has been pulled over her white hair. Symbols, drawn from what looks to be charcoal or ash, adorn her face. I look at the rows of clan members behind her, and all have some variation of the markings on their foreheads, cheeks, and noses. Every one of them is silent, carrying something small in their hands.
“We are sorry for your loss,” she says as she lifts me to my feet. “It is far greater than anyone should endure. Our people have brought offerings for your mother and Eir to ensure she is honored properly as her spirit leaves this plane. The smoke from the pyre will carry her to the afterlife. Eir will certainly welcome her into her warm embrace.”
I can’t speak, so I nod.
Numbly, I watch as Bram and Orrin instruct Dad and Connor regarding how to prepare Mom’s body for the pyre. Dad dips a rag into the creek and cleans the dirt from her face, hands, and feet. Bram and Orrin help Connor discreetly replace her worn clothing with clean, black fabric. They return her to the stretcher and cover her with a translucent shroud. Then, it’s time for me to take the lead. They’ve done all they can.
Dad takes his place beside me at Mom’s feet. Connor holds the two posts by her covered face. We count down from three so our movements are coordinated. It takes more detachment than I realized I could summon, but my trembling legs propel me to stand. I lift one of the corners of the stretcher.
“Face the mountain,” Dad instructs. He’s doing his best to be strong for me. I see it in the set of his jaw. “Don’t look back. You don’t want to fall. That won’t do anyone any good.”
Carefully, I turn and put Mom’s body behind me.
I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this.
With one final deep breath, we start the climb.
“Our people gather at the pyre to honor the life of Valerie Edwards,” Calla booms from the base of the altar where Mom’s body has been ensconced in layer upon layer of kindling. “Though she was not of the people,” she continues, “she belongs to the people. Wife of Richard, daughter-in-law of Lilliana, and mother of Kara, we give her the greatest of respect upon this, her passing. May her brave spirit be claimed by the goddess Eir, and may she be ushered into a peaceful afterlife. Though she is gone, her influence will always remain.”
In unison, Calla and the clan utter words I don’t understand.
“Valerie Edwards was a warrior. Though she saw no battlefields, her valiant spirit allowed her to raise her daughter into the young woman who stands before us today. Through her daughter, we have witnessed her strength. May she be found worthy of the hall.”
Again, the Ruin chant a reply in a different language.
“Kara, daughter of Valerie, will speak over her mother’s body before we send up the smoke to the gods and goddesses. She will dedicate this pyre. Kara, please step forward.”
With my eyes fixed on the pyre, I amble closer to Calla. She extends her arms to me, and I take her hands into mine.
“What… what do I do?” I ask. “I don’t know the language.”
“You don’t need to,” she answers. “Speak to Eir. Tell her of your pain and your loss. Ask her to accept your mother’s soul. Say your final goodbyes.”
“I don’t want to mess this up.”
“You won’t. Not if you speak from the heart.”
She leaves me standing by the pyre as I stare down at the offerings - pots of food, sachets of pungent herbs, and ornately stitched cloths - that surround the base of the altar and have been draped over the kindling. Behind me, Orrin passes Dad a torch. It sparks to life, sending the sickeningly sweet scent of accelerant up my nose.
“Eir,” I whisper, feeling foolish standing before so many people. “You may not know me. No, that’s wrong. You certainly do.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve never prayed to you before. I’m sure there are fancy words or something, but I’ve never been taught anything about deities or funerals. So, I’ll do what Calla suggested and speak from the heart, I guess.”
My voice thickens as I choke back the emotions overwhelming me.
“The woman on this altar is my mother, Valerie Edwards. She’s the best person I’ve ever known. She wasn’t perfect, but she loved me with everything she had. And, I loved her. I always will. She had cancer, and I fought to keep her here. I did everything I could, even dangerous things. Some of them I shouldn’t have done. I know that now. Still, my actions led us here to your altar and the Ruin.
“You warned me what would happen if I gave in to the temptation of our secret. I didn’t understand what it meant then, but I do now. I had the opportunity to try the Sharing, but I never followed through. Calla says it was divine intervention, and for that, I thank you. I couldn’t have lived with myself if something like what she described had happened to my mom.”
I pause, focusing on my breathing.
“I stopped fighting this morning. I let her stop fighting. And now, she’s on her way to you. In just a minute, Dad and I will light this kindling and send up the smoke Calla claims will ferry her soul to the afterlife. Please Eir, take her soul to a wonderful place. She deserves it.”
My chest constricts, and I tip my head to the sky. “Lift the curse from these people. I dedicate this pyre to you, goddess. Keep my mother safe in the afterlife, and spare the people behind me from their horrendous fates. They’re sorry. I’m sorry. Let this be done.”
Dad approaches me when I fall silent. He halts beside me, staring down at the offerings, too. Neither of us speaks. Everything that needed to be said was spoken in the clearing. There’s no blame or anger between us as he extends his shaking hand and passes me the torch. I look to Calla for guidance, but she only nods. Dad bows his head as I slowly lower the flame to the kindling and plunge it into the depths.
